Today I get to rehearse with my actress for the first time. We open in less than a week.

Ok, I’ll amend that. I get to rehearse with my actress in person for the first time.

Here’s how it all breaks down. Tropical Depression was actually created for a fantastic actress friend of mine who currently lives in NYC. The plan was to have several weekend intensive rehearsals at a retreat in Pennsylvania (aka my father’s house), and then check in a few times a week on Skype, and then meet in Orlando for two weeks for final rehearsals, tech, and performances. Unfortunately, she ended up with firm scheduling conflicts and had to withdraw.

This doesn’t mean that Aly, my current star, is second-choice-chopped-liver. No way! I recently read somewhere that “your Plan B is really your Plan A” and this situation is the perfect example. Because Alyson lives in the Orlando area and is charge of her own work schedule, we didn’t have to worry about pesky things like a boss not approving the time off. It even enables us to make some festival preview appearances!

It did, however, present some logistical challenges regarding rehearsals.

Enter Rob, the super-awesome-life-saving co-director. Rob and Aly were able to meet regularly, in person, and handle table work, blocking, and do actual real rehearsals. We’d meet on Skype once a week, so I could see what they’d been working on.

Video conferencing is awkward. The computer I’d been using had a rambunctious webcam which chose to randomly zoom in on my face for uncomfortably intimate close-ups. The webcam in the rehearsal room had crystal-clear picture, but limited stage right and left sight lines. Sometimes Alyson would disappear mid-sentence.

But now, I get several days of real human interaction and actual rehearsal. I’m trying to think of some 3D-Avatar joke now, but you get the picture.

This production is brought to you by the letters M and E. Me. I’m paying for it. I have a job — not a super-lucrative one and unfortunately one that qualifies me as “underemployed” — and the money that I earn from my job goes directly into the costs of the performance. Things like props, postcards, fliers, t-shirts, program ads, transportation for me back and forth to Orlando (turnpike gas is expensive!).

We’ve been very lucky so far. The plywood for our hurricane shutters was kindly donated by Fushu Daiko (South Florida’s premiere taiko performance group; check them out!). Our furniture was paid for by generous contributions from friends. I’m a good online shopper, and can get a really good price for postcards. The grocery props will hopefully be paid for by our senior executive producer (aka D-A-D). Pimiento cheese ingredients were covered by Cabana Boy.

But we still have outstanding expenses. The t-shirts cost money, but they look a helluva lot better than the iron-on transfer shirts I made a few years back. Also, if I figure in the cost of colored ink in my printer, the real shirts have a much lower price point. I need to have some posters made and get the programs printed out. I’m trying to go green (and thrifty) by keeping the programs as short as possible. You can check out this website for extended bios and photos.

This year, thank goodness, I am being billeted. My biggest regret from my last Orlando Fringe was that I wasn’t more involved: I wasn’t able to spend the entire two weeks in Orlando. I had hotel rooms for my cast (one for the girls, and one for the boys) for the nights surrounding our performances, and otherwise drove us all back and forth and back and forth, sometimes several times in a week. Our transportation and our lodging were the most expensive items in our budget, and believe me, we were not staying in classy places like the Holiday Inn. Let’s just say we were lucky that no one brought home bedbugs. Without a place to stay, I don’t think I’d be able to do this show; I am extremely grateful.

We’re also taking advantage of the interwebs and social networking in a big way. Because we can’t afford to run too many ads, we blog, we tweet, we post on Facebook, we send lots of emails. It helps a lot.

And now… yes, we’ve come to the portion of the post where I blush and stammer and meekly ask if you could spare a buck or two. Want to know how? Buy a ticket! Come to the show! Go to Orlandofringe.org and get your tickets.

Or maybe you don’t live in Florida, or just can’t make it to Orlando on May 21, May 22, May 23, May 25, or May 28. Buy a virtual ticket! Go to PayPal and send $8 (the cost of a ticket) to raketheaterATgmailDOTcom. Better yet, bring a virtual date, and send us $16!

It’s possible that you’re like me — underemployed — or worse. You’ve got no money to spare. Brothers and sisters, I feel your pain. But you can still help! Spread the word. Tell your friends, family, colleagues, and acquaintances to come to the show. “Like” us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter. We’ll keep using these tools even after the production is over, so you’ll be getting a really good ROI.

You know, even during a storm, there are rainbows. If I weren’t underemployed, I wouldn’t have the flexibility and freedom to spend two weeks in Orlando, seeing other shows and supporting my fellow artists. I wouldn’t have been forced to get creative with some of our props and I wouldn’t have the time to write this blog. I wouldn’t be having a really great time working with the rest of my team.

What’s new in the tropics? Rehearsals are well underway, and the output is fantastic. We’ve received a few generous donations, and tickets are now on sale.

Tomorrow, we’ll be performing at the Orlando Fringe/Orlando Museum of Art First Thursday cross-promotion. It’s a wonderful way to get a little exposure — which is fantastic, since I’m not local — and to give our star a little time in front of an audience. If you’re reading this, and you’ll be there tomorrow, stop by and say hi!

Went to Bass Pro Shop yesterday in search of waders. Guess what? Waders are REALLY expensive. Like, “more than the entire budget for props” expensive. I think we’re going to improvise. I love going to Bass Pro Shop, so it wasn’t a wasted trip.

In other news, press releases have gone out. You know what’s scarier than putting on one of your plays? Telling people about it. And not just telling the people who have seen you naked, or your parents (when the play contains swearing and drunken sex — but this is not that play! All audiences welcome!), but telling people who get paid to judge you. Sky diving seems blase in comparison.

Finally, been experimenting with the construction of some of our giveaways/prizes, for people who come to the Sunday, 11:45pm performance. I’m not ready to tell you what they are just yet, but they’re made of Sculpy. Watch this space for an amusing story involving Sculpy and national security. Until then, know that baking Sculpy makes your kitchen smell like a melting car engine.

Harold and Fringezilla are making their schedule, trying to figure out what Fringe shows they want to see this year. Tropical Depression is at the top of their list. They know that tickets go on sale May 1, so they want to be prepared.

Go to the Orlando Fringe website to buy tickets: www.orlandofringe.org. You can either search for a show, or go directly to your favorite show’s page, like this.

Choose the date and buy your tickets! If you come to the Sunday, 11:45pm performance of Tropical Depression, you’ll win prizes and enjoy extra-special surprises!

One note about Fringe ticketing. Not only do you need to have a ticket, but you also need to have a Fringe badge, like the one Harold is wearing. He’s got his already, because he doesn’t want to wait in any lines. You must buy these in person at the festival. The badge costs $8, but you only need to buy one once. So if you amortize the cost of the badge over the entire two weeks and you see a whole bunch of shows, that’s like getting it for free!

The total cost for your night of entertainment is the $8 badge + the show ticket. Each show sets its own ticket price; the price for Tropical Depression is $8. Thus, your total is $16. It would cost you the same to see a new 3-D Imax movie, and we promise not to give you motion sickness.